It was to be a kind of austere adventure, one of spiritual importance. Edmonton’s Greg Hudson, like so many Mormons before him and since, was sent off to do missionary work. A church leader told him he would “serve in foreign lands, bringing the gospel to those who have yet to receive the blessings of eternal life.” Then he learned he would spend two years, in constant contact with a church-assigned colleague, on the exotic streets of … southern Ontario. In this excerpt from his memoir “The Missionary: A Memoir of Superheroes, Sin & Saving Souls for the Mormon Church” gives a sense of the grind and, maybe, occasional glory.

I liked being downtown because people in Barrie always seemed to be outside, even in the winter, even after dark. This was mostly thanks to the bus station at one end of Dunlop Street. It injected a constant stream of troubled men and lost women into the city’s streets. There was no shortage of people wandering about who needed the gospel.



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